Sheltered
by ohthiswritingchick
Summary: Katniss Everdeen is the only victor from the 74th Hunger Games. But how will she take to being a mentor, when the girl selected for tribute is, once again, Prim? M for language
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay so to start, this is made out of boredom and is probably crap, so I may or may not continue, depending on how it goes. But enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the plot. Wish I did, but I don't.**

Today is the day.

Today I am going to find out what poor District Twelve girl I will be mentoring in the upcoming Hunger Games. Then I get sent away on a train for an unknown amount of time, away from my family again. I shudder at the thought. Being a victor was one thing, but watching another innocent soul get sent into the arena, with no way to fight for them? No, I am not looking forward to this.

My life since I left the arena has been a daze. I find myself trapped in nightmares every night, flashing back to the faces of other tributes who I killed. Who I couldn't save. But no. I would not think of Peeta. I would not think of how the blood poisoning stole him from me before I could help him. I would not think about how it was my fault.

I pinch my wrist, a habit I'd developed to stop myself from thinking the bad thoughts. I finally pull myself from bed, careful not to wake my little sister. I remember then that I no longer share a room with Prim. When we moved into the Victor's Village, we got our own rooms. All the changes still swirl in my head, and I allow myself one moment to breathe before continuing downstairs.

My mother is making breakfast in the kitchen, though it is surely nearly noon by now. Our relationship has been so strange since my return from the tour the victor's must do. After my father's death, the bond we once shared was broken, and remained that way for years. But now, after nearly losing each other, the bond has been repaired. Not the same as before, but I can now truly understand how lucky I am to still be here, with her. I give her a kiss on the cheek before sitting at the kitchen table.

"Hungry?" she asks me without looking away from the sizzling bacon.

I shake my head though she can't see me. "Not really. I don't think my stomach can handle it."

There is a moment where my mother considers how to reply. She knows the thoughts going on in my head, but I can tell she doesn't know how to approach the topic. I'd been self sufficient for so many years now, both physically and emotionally, that she no longer knows how to comfort me. All she whispers is, "Just do your best."

We don't speak for a while before I excuse myself to go get ready. I'd been putting off picking what to wear, so I have a bit of a problem now. I look over my closet, which still isn't thoroughly impressive. I settle on nearly exactly what I wore last year to the reaping, a skirt and a blouse. I wonder if people would recognize me, if my face hadn't been shoved in their faces for the past year. I'd been lucky enough to get out of the arena with nearly no scars, but the difference in my face was unmistakable. Aged. I'm only seventeen, but the Games change people. Force things to happen to children that should not happen.

I wonder if people will stare at the reaping. But of course they will. I won't even be in the crowd this year. I will be on stage, sitting among the 'privileged'. That consists of the mayor, Effie, who is once again the planner for the tributes of Twelve, and Haymitch. Oh, Haymitch. When I was selected as a tribute last year, all I could think of Haymitch was that he was a drunk with no better way to spend his life than waiting to die. But now I understand. The drinking is only his escape from the terrors that never stop haunting the victors. Then there's the fact that every year, he has to try and keep two kids alive, and has watched them both die every year until last. No, I no longer hate Haymitch.

Once I'm dressed, I go to rouse Prim. I find her on her bed, curled in a ball while being protected by Buttercup. The ugly cat hisses at me while I cross the room. I hiss right back. I gently sit on the edge of my little sister's bed and shake her shoulder. "Prim," I whisper. "Prim, it's time to get up."

Her eyes flutter open, and she takes a few seconds to absorb the room around her before throwing her arms around my neck. Her sobs rack through her body before I can begin to comfort her. I wrap my arms protectively around her, and start patting her blonde hair. She cries into me for a while I whisper soothing words to her. Eventually, she calms down and pulls away.

"I don't want to do it again, Katniss," she says, her voice hoarse from crying.

Prim is now thirteen, which means her name should only be entered twice in the bowl. We have no need for the tessera anymore, because of the winnings from the last Hunger Games. Her odds should be pretty good, considering there will be thousands of papers in that bowl.

But this is a Quarter Quell. The seventy-fifth anniversary of the Games. The Capitol, of course, has to make these games worse than usual. I remember the night President Snow announced the rules for the upcoming Games as if it were yesterday. Then I remember, it had been just yesterday that I'd revisited that day in my nightmares.

We had gathered around the TV in our house, waiting to see what horrors awaited. I was more frightened than I was last year. It was no longer my own safety I was concerned for; it was Prim's. The Capitol's seal flashed, before the live feed of Snow in his mansion aired.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it. On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes. And now we honor our third Quarter Quell." He reaches into the little box brought on stage with him. He pulls out one card and studies it for what seems to be forever before reading it. "As a reminder to the rebels that even the smallest and weakest among them are dying, the younger the tribute, the more slips will be in the bowl with their name on it."

It had taken a moment to sink in. The youngest, the twelve year olds, would have twice as many slips as the eighteen year olds. Prim had broken into sobs while my mother sat in shock. The rules were very dodgy, but it was clear that Prim was in more danger this year.

So while Prim should normally only have been entered twice, she was to have seventeen slips with her name on it, just one less than the twelve year olds. Still, the odds were against her, but it was unnerving to imagine any young child being slaughtered in that arena. Just as Rue had been, so small and fragile.

I pinch my wrist to bring me back to the present. I stare into Prim's eyes for a long time. "You're going to be fine, Prim. I promise."

I help her up, and get her dressed. I tuck in her duck tail while she quacks, and a chuckle escapes my lips. My little sister has matured so much over the past year, but she was still just a silly little girl. I stand beside her as she gazes into the mirror. Prim has taken on most of my mother's physical qualities, while I'd taken on more from my father. But standing here, side by side, there was no doubt we were sisters. She was just a younger, prettier version of me. With soft eyes, and blonde locks, she was sure to have boys all over her when she gets older.

We hold hands as we walk downstairs, and we find Haymitch sitting at the table, looking only slightly drunk this year. Mother is serving him what is obviously not his first helping of breakfast. He stands when he sees me.

"Sweetheart! How good to see you!" He chucks his arms around me for a hug, and Prim ducks out before she is swallowed whole. "Ready to see what kid we're going to watch die this year?"

I shove him off of me, giving him a death glare as I hear Prim attempt to keep her breathing calm. He notices the reason for my defensive behavior, and turns to Prim. "Oh but don't you worry, cupcake, you're going to be fine." He breathes the last word as he nearly falls over. Sighing, I help him steady himself.

"Katniss, the mayor has requested you at the Square in fifteen minutes," my mother tells me. I know what this means. It's time to go.

I shove Haymitch off of me, and walk over to Prim, who is staring blankly at her food in front of her. I pull up a chair next to her. "Listen to me, ducky. You are not going to picked, you understand? You are completely safe, I promise." I pull her in for a hug. "You've got to trust me, Prim."

I feel a few tears re-dampen my shirt as she whispers, "I do trust you."

I pull back, kiss her forehead, and stand. I hug my mother goodbye, and head out the front door with Haymitch. We walk silently towards to center of District Twelve, though I am constantly steadying Haymitch. He's not completely wasted though, just enough that he doesn't know where to put his feet. Once we reach the square, Effie, sporting a neon blue wig, sighs and comes to my rescue.

"Katniss, how good to see you, dear," she says. Haymitch finds himself someone new to fling himself at, and so I trudge myself up the stairs to the stage.

I find the mayor, Madge's father, sitting patiently in one of the four seats set out. I sit on the chair farthest away from him, naturally out of habit to exclude myself from social events. But I have nothing against him. His daughter is one of my only friends. It was her who gave me the mockingjay pin as a token, which I have ever since kept as a good luck charm. Even now it is pinned to my blouse. I spend a lot of time at the mayor's house, so I know the man sitting two chairs over from me very well, but I still don't wish to have a conversation with him.

Time goes on, conversations buzz around me, and eventually the Square fills. Girls between the ages of twelve and eighteen file into one closed off area, and boys between the same ages file in another adjacent to it. Usually, the younger children are at the back of the cage, and older teens are at the front, but not this year. The Gamemakers have decided that since it is more likely for a younger child to be picked, it makes more sense to have them at the front.

I watch the families of the possible tributes cling to the side of the ropes. Looking over, I see my mother holding hands with Prim from across the rope. I glance to the boy's side, and see what I desperately wish not to see. Gale.

My best friend. From the moment I'd entered the arena, and I'd been playing the 'girl in love with Peeta' role, I thought for sure I'd lose everything I'd ever had with him. We were so perfect for each other, but it'd never occurred to us. Gale had been supportive when I first returned home, after all, I was so shattered from losing Peeta. But where did it leave our relationship? Were we to fall in love now? We'd spent what time we could together, and it usually involved holding hands or something of the such. We'd never kissed of course, but I couldn't help but wonder if we were ever going to be able to take on that relationship.

But Gale was safe now. He's nineteen, no longer able to be a tribute in the Hunger Games. Only one of his siblings is of the age that can be picked. Like Prim, Rory has better chances of being picked this year than any other year. I think about how it must be for Gale now, after everything that happened last year. I'm positive, had the situation been reversed, Gale would have volunteered to take Rory's place in the Games. But Gale was too old now. He couldn't volunteer if he wanted to. The thought alone gives me shudders.

Effie and Haymitch take their seats next to me and the mayor, waiting for the cue to begin the ceremony. We wait for the camera men to wave at us, and Mayor Undersee stands. I block out the words he says, just wanting this to be over. It's not until Effie stands to begin picking names that I pay attention.

She smiles at the cameras and says, "Shall we start with the boys this year?"

Effie walks over to the oversized bowl. My stomach begins to turn. It is much larger than it should be. It contains too many names of innocent children. Her fingers snake their way into the bowl and dance over the top of the slips before dipping into them, and surfacing with one paper in hand. There is pure silence before she reads out, "Rory Hawthorne."

My heart skips a beat. No. Not little Rory, who's only thirteen. I force my eyes to lift, to see Gale with no expression on his face as his brother steps out of the crowd. He looks terrified, and he has every right to be. But he keeps walking.

"Let's have a round of applause of our newest male tribute!" says Effie happily. There is a few scattered claps that die out quickly. Rory climbs the stairs to the stage, and stands next to Effie. "Now, are there any volunteers?"

Silence. No one will take his place. No one who wants to can. Rory will be entering the arena as District Twelve's boy tribute. I make eye contact with Gale, and say silently what cannot be said aloud. _I promise I will do everything in my power to bring him home, Gale. I promise nothing can stop me from bringing him back to you._ I see him give on tiny nod, his eyes locked on mine.

My promise becomes a lie as Primrose Everdeen's name is called as the female tribute.

**AN: So please tell me what you guys think! If I should continue, if I should burn it and pretend I never wrote it...let me know. Any type of criticism is welcome, so please please please rate and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Okay so I'll be continuing for a while, but the updates may be only once a week or so, due to school. Thank you to all who reviewed! It means a lot. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the plot. That all goes to Suzanne Collins.**

No one knows what to say. How it possible for a girl's name to be pulled twice in a row? It, to my knowledge, has never happened before, because victor's are not able to be tributes again. But Prim didn't enter the arena last year. And this year, there is no one to volunteer for her.

I'm having an out of body experience as I watch the scene before me unfold. My mother is crying already, and people start shouting as Prim walks forward towards to the stage. It takes a moment for me to come to my senses before I can react. I jump from my seat. "This can't happen! She can't be drawn again! It's rigged!"

Haymitch wraps his arms around me and pulls me off the stage while I continue to scream at Effie. I can't help but blame her - after all, it is her hand that selects the tribute. Just as I'm being dragged out of sight, I see my little sister, with her duck tail hanging out, crossing the sage, before Haymitch pulls me away completely. I do everything I can to fight him off while he attempts to hold my arms down.

"Listen to me, sweetheart, or I'm not going to help you keep your sister alive," Haymitch spits at me. I can hear him perfectly over the silence from no on volunteering to save Prim.

I settle for a moment, letting my nails dig into my wrist to try and wake me from surely must be another nightmare. But no release comes. Haymitch takes a moment to assess if I'm really going to shut up before talking. "You have one way, and one way alone to keep her safe. You take all of your emotion out of it. She's not your sister, she's a kid you are trying to bring home to Twelve. It's the only way you'll be able to think logically, and keep yourself from going insane. Do you understand, Katniss?"

I let it sink in. Pretend that Prim has no connection to me. Be as tough on her as Haymitch was on me. "I can't do it! She's my sister!" I feel sobs threatening to break through the wall I've build.

Haymitch is not one to give pity. "Then watch her die. You're choice."

He walks away. I'm left in a stunned silence for moment before I see Peacekeepers marching Rory and Prim towards the Justice Building. I feel my legs running before my mind catches up. In the sea of people, I find Gale headed towards where his brother is being taken. I want to catch up with him, to cry in his arms. But I can't dare face him now. When you're a mentor, you try and keep one kid alive, and one kid alone. Even when both tributes have their own mentor, as they do this year, one child will be favored. I can't dare talk to Gale now, not knowing that his brother won't be coming home if it's up to me.

Once I reach the Justice Building, I find my mother. She sees me, but her eyes appear to go right through me. I can't begin to imagine what she's going through. The depression she felt after losing my father surely came back when I was selected as tribute, and it is no doubt creeping back now. I put my arm around her and allow her to put hers around me. We stand silently together until a Peacekeeper leads us to the room where Prim is sitting alone.

The room is all too familiar. I remember sitting on the couch with Prim on my lap just a year ago. I make my way over to my baby sister, and it hits me for the first time just how tiny she is. She's hardly bigger than Rue was. I pull her into me once I sit, and kiss her head. "Baby, you're going to be okay. I'm your mentor. I'm coming with you. You're not alone. You can do it." Words flow from my mouth without stopping.

Prim isn't crying though. She's become an emotionless statue, that allows herself to be hugged and pet. Eventually, she speaks. "Mom, you have to take care of Lady and Buttercup."

A small laugh escapes both my mother and me. Of course, Prim is concerned with her pet goat and cat. It hits me then that my mother will be all alone. With Prim as a tribute, and me as a mentor, my mother will have no one to share the house in Victor's Village with. I start reminding her of things she has to do to take care of herself, until Prim stops me and asks for one last kiss from my mother.

Before the Peacekeeper comes to pry me from my sister, I whisper, "See you on the train, duckie."

I'm not sure what to say once my mother and I are alone outside the room. A few other friends of Prim file into her room and my mother and I watch silently. Finally, she starts sobbing, and I try to comfort her. I tell her it will all be okay, that Prim will be coming home with me, but I honestly don't know that for sure. Mother is still crying when Effie finds me. She tells me my bags are packed on the train already, and that I will be riding in a separate car from my sister to get to the station.

All too soon, I'm being towed from my mother into a car that will take me to a train station, filled with people waiting to assess my sister. As I step out of the car, I'm bombarded with questions. How do I feel about having my sister picked again, do I think it's rigged, how I feel when she dies. I keep my gaze ahead of me and refuse to say a word, even a thank you to Haymitch who pushes some reporters out of my face.

The noise settles outside as I enter my room. What feels like only a few moments later, the noise starts up again, and I know Prim and Rory have arrived. Knowing I won't be able to see them live, I turn on the TV in my room, and watch a feed that is live from one of the cameras outside. Both thirteen year olds say nothing, as I'm sure they have been advised, before they step into the train. I throw the TV remote on the floor, and I run out of my room in search of Prim.

I find her being ushered by Effie towards a room down a hallway. "Prim!" I cry out. "Prim!" She turns, but Effie continues to push her forward. I grind my teeth together. Effie surely knows what I must be feeling. Can she not allow three seconds change in her damn schedule to allow me to see my sister? I know it's no use trying to go after them - for the train doors won't budge once they've been locked. I still walk down the hallway, though, because once Effie is done showing Prim around, she'll open the door for me.

I sit in the hall, waiting, until I hear Effie say, "Be in the main hall for dinner in an hour." I jump to my feet, and give Effie the death glare as she acknowledges me. "Oh, Katniss, there you are. I think Haymitch is waiting for you in the-"

"I'm not meeting Haymitch now," I cut her off. "I'm going in to see my sister now."

Effie purses her lips together, but does not object. Once she leaves, I knock on the door. No reply. I knock again. "Prim?"

At the sound of my voice, the door is thrown open. Her arms are around my waist in a second, and I pull her into her room to allow some privacy. I haven't yet figured out what I'm going to present my sister as, and I won't let her be exposed until I figure it out. After the door is closed, we don't even make it to the bed before the tears come. And this time, I'm crying with her. I cry because I'm scared. I cry because it's unfair. I cry with my sister until we just can't cry anymore. All my words this morning, words of comfort and promise, fade to dust.

Slowly, I bring us to our feet. I help her change into some more comfortable clothes. By the time Effie comes to collect us for dinner, my little Duckie is looking stronger than I've ever seen her look before. At dinner, I see Prim and Rory go through exactly what Peeta and I did the first night on the train. They eat as much food as they can, since there is never enough food in the Seam, and then they regret it after when they look ill. Haymitch is absent for dinner, once again, but we find in him in the other compartment, where our young tributes are going to have to watch other tributes being called.

I sit in the middle of the couch, and allow both Prim and Rory to lean into me. Prim naturally curls herself around me, after years of years of practice. Rory takes a little more time. At first, he just sat on the couch, then he looked in my eyes for permission. Who was I to deny him? I opened my arm and he let his head rest on my shoulder. Haymitch grumbles something about a big happy family while Effie turns on the TV.

One by one, we all watch the tributes being called. The Careers are huge and lethal, as usual. A twelve year old was selected from Two, but was quickly replaced by an eighteen year old who looks twice the size of Gale. A very vast majority of the tributes are younger. Weaker. The oldest tribute who's name was actually selected is a fifteen year old girl from Six. Everyone else is younger, or has been replaced by a seventeen or eighteen year old, though those are only the Career districts.

For the first time, I try to imagine Prim fighting someone that size. Trying to fight someone like Cato, who was lethal in every way. I quickly jump to pinch my wrist as thoughts of Prim's face being scared by Clove's knife scares me. Finally, they show Twelve's tributes being drawn. They see Rory, looking so much like Gale it takes me by surprise. Then they see Prim, and me going insane. Most of the time I have a good hold on my emotions, but I can't be blamed for losing it there.

Once we're done watching, Effie pulls out her little notebook, scribbles something in it, then excuses herself without any other words. Haymitch takes this time to drink some more. The two children are told they can do as they please now, and Prim holds onto my hand so tightly I think it might break, but I have to push her off. "Go to bed, duckie, I'll be there soon." Reluctantly, my little sister shoves herself off the couch. I nod to Rory. "You should get some sleep too."

I wait before the children have left the room before turning to Haymitch. "What do we do now?"

His answer is so simply Haymitch it almost makes me chuckle.

"Drink."

**Wow, okay. That didn't feel like an amazing chapter, but I sort of stopped halfway through so I may have lost some motivation. Give me ideas and tips people! Pleasepleaseplease review and rate. Thanks!**


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